


Sleek as Classic Cars and Black Leather

by 2vampiresarebetterthan1



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Blood Play, Bottom Dean Winchester/Top Sam Winchester, Crossover, Daddy Kink, Fluff, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Light Bondage, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Monster of the Week, Non-Canon Relationship, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Rough Sex, Sex and Tequila, Sex in/on the Desoto (Buffyverse), Sex in/on the Impala (Supernatural), Sex on a bike, Stalking, Threesome - M/M/M, Top/ Bottom Versatile Spike, Top/Bottom Versatile Dean Winchester, Voyeurism, Wincest - Freeform, winchest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:55:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27203482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2vampiresarebetterthan1/pseuds/2vampiresarebetterthan1
Summary: Dumped by Drusilla, Spike comes back to Sunnydale. Every plan he makes blows in his face. There is no winning against that bloody Slayer. Settled on going back to what he does best and find Drusilla, he is about to take off when Fate puts a new obsession on his path.The Winchesters are investigating mysterious deaths in a small burb in California, Sunnydale. Dean is hot as hell at Baby’s wheel. Spike forms a new plan to get over Dru. As usual his plan backfires, in an unexpected way: Spike falls in love with a Hunter…  And Dean might as well have feelings for that handsome blond demon.How does Sam fit into that equation?
Relationships: Angel / Buffy Summers (mentionned), Angel/Spike (BtVS) (mentionned), Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Spike (BtVS)/Dean Winchester, Spike (BtVS)/Sam Winchester, Spike / Drusilla (mentionned)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17





	Sleek as Classic Cars and Black Leather

**Author's Note:**

> Directly after Lover’s walk (BtVS) and Faith (Supernatural). The timeline is all wrong so let’s just pretend it works for the love of these three cuties, shall we? The boys are still young and not too wrecked yet.  
> I recommend that you listen to Become the Beast from Karliene. It fits Spike and Dean’s relationship perfectly. Who is the prey, who is the predator?  
> And just when everything seems to go so well between these two, it gets complicated.  
> A slice of manipulative obsessive Spike, a very horny and open-minded Dean, a pinch of grieving monomaniac Sam and there you go! An appetizing Manwich!  
> I fell into the rabbit hole when I discovered AO3. Look what some of you guys made me do! I swear I started this as a love story between Spike and Dean, and Sam came in the mix on his own… hence: threesome and Wincest ahead, be warned. And maxi fluff alert.  
> This is just silly smut with a touch of angst, and a few chick flick moments. I am still knew to reading and writing fanfictions, have mercy on me.  
> I discovered Supernatural only a few weeks ago. I read great fanfics about Spike and Dean and went on Google Image to discover who was this Hunter... saw a few pictures... and needed more! I am only at Season 3 so please, no spoilers! I came to Supernatural for Dean, stayed for Sam, now I am hooked for Wincest. No beta and no native English speaker, my most sincere apologies for my mistakes. Feel free to correct me. Please enjoy!

Sleek as Classic Cars and Black Leather  
By 2vampiresarebetterthan1

Dean was pissed. Does anybody really need to ask why? Why does Dean Winchester wake up in the morning? Why does he keep fighting? Why does he buy salads at the convenience store?  
Sam. Sam. Sam. Obviously. Dean could not even remember what had fueled that fight. One minute he was bored in the motel room, doing some research and bitching about the job. Minutes later their father was mentioned, one snark comment led to another, a well phrased Truth was professed, seemingly questioning Dean’s ability to think by himself, and then his knuckles were suddenly sore, followed by his nose and jaw. Next thing he knew he was flooring Baby away from the motel, heading to FucktheHellOutofHere. The cherry on the cake was that Dean was not only pissed, but he was also, and mostly, hurt. That, nobody would be able to tell, not even himself, under the layers of hot sweat and anger carefully added on top of each other like plaid shirts on vintage t-shirts. Dean wiped his bloody nose with the back of his hand, then wiped his fist on his jeans and took off. 

Spike was pissed. Seemed that every good, smart, carefully laid out plan always led to a disaster and lots of pain. Not healthy, happy pain with his prey screaming, but his own pain, bollocks. He could feel again the burn of humiliation. Clearly, he was not arseholed enough just yet. He was going to get himself some fine bourbon and then see if his luck was waiting for him far far away from that Hellmouth of crap. His love life was a disappointment. Even his family was a disappointment. His once mighty and feared Sire especially really cheesed him off. He had turned into an embarrassing Pansy, following the Slayer everywhere, all drool and Puppy eyes. It was pathetic. The sod had stupid hair, was dusting vampires and hanging around with a bunch of teenagers. That wanker had turned into a total eunuch, no shagging with the Slayer, and no shagging with Spike. Nothing good did ever happened in Goddamn Sunnydale. Bugger that, he was off. 

Sam was pissed. He hated his life with a cold rage. He sighed as the sonic blast of his brother’s leaving faded away, enjoying the peace that came after the storm. He turned off the TV. He had been watching it for ten minutes or more and could not tell for the life of him what was on the screen. Another crappy motel. How he wished to be elsewhere! He took the keys and left for a walk. His short attempt at normal life had been like a dream. A brief moment of peace and hope followed by a brutal awakening. Of course, he had missed Dean. When he left him behind, his heart was torn from his chest. He craved Dean’s love, his strength, and the physical deprivation had been torture, but being away was easier, somehow. He could deny his feelings and desires. His brother’s moods and their lack of communication, he had not missed. Dean’s car. Dean’s plans. Dean’s unconditional faith in Dad. Sam had nothing. He followed Dean around, like a dog. A pat on the head today, a kick in the ass tomorrow. For God’s sake he had to get a grip, or he would be crying in the street. A drink was what he needed. He selected the new playlist he had created. He could not listen ever again to their favorite songs because he would hear her singing. Sam inhaled slowly and hit Play. His jaw throbbed. He really tried, but that relational pattern seemed unbreakable. It would end up like this every single time. Miscommunication, violence, denial, escape, self-hatred, coping, repeat. He had to do something about it before it destroyed them both. 

Spike was almost out of Sunnydale already. But suddenly then there she was, catching his eye. The sleek black beauty, waiting oddly at a red light after having violated the three ones before, blasting AC/DC and waves of hot blood full of anger, adrenalin, pain and power through the rolled down windows. Spike passed the Impala, put in reverse and positioned his car for a race, pushing the Fireflite to roar in challenge. He got a glimpse of short brown messy hair, deep green eyes, plump lips, three-day stubble and an appetizing bobbing Adam Apple behind the wheel. He could not wait to see how that would turn out; the evening was not totally doomed after all. The challenge was immediately accepted. The light turned green and both black classic beauties chased after each other. Spike was having a ball. Shouting lyrics and drumming on the Fireflite’s wheel, he led the Impala around town at full speed.

Dean needed a drink, and badly. He headed towards the liquor store and stopped at a red light to change the tape. He saw the DeSoto Fireflite appear from nowhere, stop inches from his bumper and challenge him. The poor girl was in bad need of some TLC. He could not see who the dude was, the windows were dirty as fuck or painted black, but he was not one to pass a good occasion to have fun. After trailing behind for a while, he finally got to pass the DeSoto. Just when he was bursting out laughing, the Fireflite overtook him after a nasty bend near the train tracks, leading the way towards the flashing no arms level crossing. The Impala swung around and almost hit the road fence when he locked on the binders. The DeSoto crossed seconds before the massive freight train came at full speed horning and screeching. Sonofabitch! That dude had stones. Dean had lost, but he felt great. All worked up and ready to blow some more steam with a beer in his hand, he patted lovingly Baby’s wheel and decided to go check the next bar he could find. 

Spike watched from afar as the Impala turned around and went back to town. He felt excited and happy somehow, a feeling he hadn’t experienced in a long time. He was still a little bit drunk, but not to the point of not being able to follow the sleek beauty from a safe distance. He pulled in the car park of the Bronze not far from the Impala, hoping that the Slayer would be nowhere to be seen that evening. He really was in no mood for another confrontation. Yet he couldn’t resist the pull of his curiosity. From the shadows of the second floor, he scanned the crowd for the blond menace, sighed in relief when he found no whiff of her annoying friends nor hers, and relaxed a bit, a bottle of beer dangling from his hand. A delicious fragrance made his nostrils flare, and he slowly circled his new prey, taking the delicious human all in, his blood stirring and his throat aching. 

Dean went straight to the bar and ordered his drink, scanning the place with his hunter’s eyes, checking for danger a bit, but mostly looking for hot chicks. A fantasy about the mysterious DeSoto owner was slowly taking form in his mind. A blond vision with tits trapped in a tight leather top waiting for Dean to free them was slowly making his hopes rise, amongst other things. If after this fukkedup day he could be that lucky, to meet a hot chick who would love car hoods as much as he did, and who would be happy to enjoy his for the evening or more, he would be ready to give up apple pies for at least a month. Let’s make it a week. His thoughts became nastier and nastier as he let his eyes roam on the dancing girls, smiling now and then his pick-up smile number three, the one that had never failed him. Sure enough one minute later a few girls were checking their make-up in pocket mirrors and building the courage to make their moves on the handsome guy at the bar. Dean just waited there to pick the prettiest. 

Casual smile number three was not lost on Spike. The delicious looking guy was offering himself at the bar, putting on a show for everyone with one eye or more to enjoy. Spike was prowling from a safe distance. He watched as the bint came near the Dickies model, and the way the bloke licked his plump lips at the sight of her bosom had Spike’s mouth water. As the pair went to the dancefloor after a few drinks, the scent of need and lust emanating from the cutie’s neck from under his plaid shirt, mixed with the denim and the leather of his clothes made Spike’s skin feel warmer. The bloke knew how to move his hips and sweet talk a girl, for sure. He had a very deep low voice, murmuring in her ears, laughing smoothly at her comments, and it sounded like music to Spike’s ears. His hands were getting lower on her back, and not long after he was guiding her outside to his car. Spike followed, hidden in the shadows.

This God forgotten shitty town was doing nothing for Dean, goddamit. The prettiest girl in the bar, a hot brunette with a tantalizing mouth and big boobs in a red party dress turned out to be even worse than a disappointment. She let Dean small talk her and kiss her in his car for the first hour but as soon as she had his engine going, she had played hard to get. Smoothly hinting that he was ready for her to get down on him had got him bitch-slapped and slapped. The last thing he saw from her was her cheesy plate matriculated Queen C when she dashed out of the parking lot. God, he was losing his touch. Being too pushy and turned down in return had never, never happened to him. Well, Fuck it, he was now hard as stone, his package aching so much he could hardly walk when he entered the motel room. Sam was mercifully already asleep in his bed, and Dean lost no time, going straight to the shower for some much-needed private time and a visit to Mrs Palm and her five lovely daughters. Weeks without a proper fuck, well, 9 days or so, but that felt like ages. And now this complete tease. He was about to burst. His hands covered in soap, he pampered his neglected cock and achy balls, massaging, squeezing and twisting, sliding up and down faster and faster, his soft moans of relief slowly turning into pleasure cries, then into desperate grunts as his release kept escaping him. As he was frenetically fucking his hand to the point it was beginning to burn, he bumped his lower back against the cold shower tiles. The unexpected sensation had him wonder if the DeSoto’s back seat leather would feel cool against his bare ass while his cock was being sucked by a blond beauty’s warm lips. With that, he came at last in long waves of pleasure that left him shuddering and dizzy, panting against the shower wall. He could finally go to bed and catch some sleep. 

Against the motel’s wall, behind some trees, Spike was standing, his head lifted, slowly inhaling the steam and mouthwatering aroma escaping from the bathroom vent fan. The little whimpers and cries of desperation, hardly covered by the water sounds, made him lose his mind. Vamping out to get a better grip on the stimuli rushing down on him, he unzipped his too tight jeans and started to wank his brains off in rhythm. Flashes of the sweet bloke whirled in his mind, the lovely fade in the tapered neckline calling his fingers, the little freckles on the soft skin inviting his tongue, and the slim hips in distressed denim asking for his grip on them. Spike could feel his orgasm coming, rushing at him from deep within, and when suddenly he heard a loud yell of sweet agony from above him, he clenched his jaw and bit his tongue to prevent himself from responding. Swallowing a mouthful of blood, he gave himself a last twist, sending blissful glistening splashes all over the wall.  
Bloody Hell, he had to get a taste. Fuck Dru, she could wait a few decades hoping that he would run back to her with his tail between his legs. He had a better idea where said tail could be. He zipped his jeans up and silently left, a new plan gradually rising in his mind.

Maybe it was the sound of the bathroom door closing, maybe it was the warm feeling of safety and relief acknowledging Dean’s return, maybe it was the reeking lingering smell of alcohol left in the room by his big brother, or a combination of these elements that awoke Sam. The room was safe, the bed was warm, Sam sighed and relaxed. And tensed again. Familiar muffled moans were coming from the bathroom. Piled up memories of Dean’s not so secret jerking off sessions shot through his brain, enflaming Sam’s senses. He was still mad at Dean, the fight had taken them too far again. His face was still sore. He stroked lightly his chin and lips and could feel the exact spot where Dean had marked him earlier. His half-hard cock twitched, and he hated himself. Or Dean. Or both. On edge, Sam listened carefully, hunting skills catching up to find out that Dean was taking longer than usual to reach his goal. Sam saw himself put the covers down and get on his feet, moving through the room like a shadow, his hand on the doorknob before he could even think about what he was doing. Silently opening the door, sounds coming louder, steam hitting him, only a slit of light, his eyes adjusting, all willpower vanquished in a heartbeat by the overcoming image of Dean’s naked body under the running water. Sam thoughtlessly swallowed back the gasp rising in his throat. Years of practice to thank for. Dean had his back to the door, one hand on the wall near the jet, the other hand furiously stroking his cock. He sounded almost in pain, his ass jolting, cheeks clenching over and over again and Sam had to bite his knuckles hard to silence his responsive moans. Sam was still fighting the tentation to indulge himself and grip his throbbing cock. Just when he was about to lose the battle, Dean slightly turned, his movement made him bump against the ugly light green tiles. Sam couldn’t have moved for the life of him. He watched, spellbound, as Dean finally climaxed violently, eyes shut tight, spurting in his hand, white jets running down his strong arched thighs with the water. And just like that, his hand still in his mouth, Sam came long and hard in his boxers. Chest heaving, he leapt to his bed before feeling his legs become numb and quickly covered himself, shivering, burying his face in the pillow and pressing his cock against the sheets to lengthen the aftershock, Dean’s ecstatic face burnt in his brain.

The next morning Dean left the motel early to get some coffee. He was ready to wake up Sam with some pastries and even fruit, Sam would love that. He saw the note on his windshield immediately. It was written in a delicate script on a paper towel with the Bronze’s logo on it.  
‘Did you enjoy our little race, Luv? It had me craving for more. Do you ride as fast as you drive? Meet me on the car park of the Bronze tonight and see if you can take me. S.’  
Well this had his gears and clogs clicking and turning, and his needle spinning. Shannon? Sandy? Smutty Sally? He was half hard all day, and the job at hand… what job again? He could not even remember why they had come to this town in the first place anymore. All he could think about was the hot hood of the DeSoto, and how he was going to grab that hot S. bitch’s ass before sitting her on top of it to fuck her slowly until dawn, and the awesome blow job she would give him in the back seat. 

Spike took his time to get ready. He was excited and hopeful. He was sure that the bloke would show up. He looked like the kind to love a little mystery and challenge. He decided to aim for his usual dark and mysterious, but kept it simple, with no make-up and little jewelry. A fitted V-shaped black T-shirt and slim black jeans, his silver chain and only two silver rings. Dashing. Unfortunately, no reflection to confirm the fact. Spike arrived after sunset at the Bronze. He parked his car and took a few sips from his flask. Leaving his duster on the passenger seat, he unlocked the bonnet and started to check the engine. 

When Dean killed Baby’s engine instants later in the parking lot, he spotted the DeSoto immediately, in the far-left corner. It was a spot far from the streetlights, and it was dark over there. Walking closer he noticed combat boots, long slender legs, and a lovely ass in tight black jeans offered to him under the opened hood of the DeSoto. In three fast and silent strides he was reaching and holding firmly a slim waist in a tight t-shirt, grinding his hard cock against that delicious booty. His hands went a little bit down South and hit a big bulge under the rough texture.  
A Hunter was never caught off guard. A good Hunter was always quick to adapt and make the best of any situation. Any. Situation. The Day Dean Winchester Admitted His Error was still many demons away. He was not letting this *not so little* detail keep him away from finally getting his good fuck and his brains back, no way. Hell, at this point he was so horny, even Sam’s profile peeping at him from above that firm ass would not have stopped him from humping it. If such a promising ass had a cock attached in the front, well fuck, even better. No need to choose between apple or cherry pie. Dean bent his legs and ground slowly harder in an upward motion.  
“I take it your name’s not Sally, then.” Said Dean.  
“Name’s Spike”, a deep voice purred, happy to see me, I reckon?”

***

The morning after Dean was still walking (cautiously) on a cloud. His body was sore as fuck but he could not stop grinning. Luckily, they had different ointments and creams with the bandages in the first-aid kit, because there was no way he would go to a drugstore to ask for something for his throbbing hole. He had scratches across his back, and a trail of hickeys on his stomach. He even had the disturbing shock to discover a bite mark on his cock. He could not remember when it had been made, probably during the second round in the back seat. Turned out the leather was warm, and the blond’s lips felt cool around his tip…  
“Good morning, I need to speak to Dean Winchester, I am his parole officer.” Sam declared in a professional tone from behind his laptop.  
Dean finally snapped out of it.  
“Uh, What?”  
“Dude you look like crap. Where did you sleep last night anyway? Got lucky with a cute waitress again? Wait, I don’t even wanna know. Don’t make me waste my breathe, just focus and listen already, ok?” Sam bitched.  
“Sure, whatever. Go on with your briefing, Corporal.” Dean taunted and tried to think about the cases at hand. The headlines read “Another victim mauled by wild animals”, “The Police advise people to stay indoor after dark”, “Donation blood needed” and so on. Yep, clearly it was right down their alley. Some bastard was keeping busy around town.

Spike stalked Dean Winchester the whole week, applying some lessons learnt in the past from Dear Grand Sire. He left his car hidden in the garage of the empty house he was now squatting and subtly, for once, booked in at the motel the brothers were staying, making sure he would get the adjacent room. Then he quietly drilled a hole in the wall while the two were at the Dinner. He was incredibly pleased with himself. It was better than watching the Telly. Their family history and love life could easily beat Passions. He listened as the Hunters did some research and discussed theories. After a few minutes of Sam’s big words and metaphysical talk he had stop listening. God that one would get along well with the tiny red apprentice witch. Instead he focused on Dean’s lovely heartbeat and breathing sounds, and admired his muscular body relaxing on the bed. In a few minutes they would turn off the lights and snore, and he could go enjoy sleeping Dean until morning. He just had to be careful not to disturb the salt they put everywhere. 

“Oh man, put on some clothes already! I don’t need any more nightmare material!” ranted Sam. Dean was bent over the bed, and his crack was showing above the towel wrapped low on his hips.  
“Ah ah, very mature, man… Shit, I can’t find one damned pair of boxers! Have you seen my underwear?” asked Dean.  
“The pink ‘I hate Mondays’ one, or the red ‘Those days again’ one?” taunted Sam.  
“Fuck you, Asshole” snapped Dean. He was checking under the little desk. Nope. Nothing there either. He had no choice left but put his jeans on his ass and go commando.  
“You probably left them at the coin laundry yesterday”, Sam stated, his eyes glued to Dean with a weird expression on his face.  
“Well thanks, Captain Obvious” grumbled Dean. He grabbed his gun and looked for his pocketknife. Nada. He was positive he had left it on the table after wiping it the previous evening. But Sam still had his ‘let’s annoy Big Bro’ face on, so he kept it down while Sam quickly disappeared in the bathroom.

Spike was fidgeting, not pleased with the setting yet. Should he put the pocketknife in the middle of the little altar on the bed side table, or rather, the tape? The pictures looked great, under the dancing light of two red candles. Dean laughing with Sam at the Dinner, Dean leaning on the bar while chatting with the waitress, Dean deep focused in his reading of an old newspaper at the library (and that one Spike had to treasure as it had cost him a nasty burn on his neck while retreating to the sewers), and Spike’s favourite, Dean checking a map on the roof of his car, at his most handsome with a ready for the bit of rough and tumble look. He put the knife in the middle. There. Perfect. Burying his face in the soft well-worn fabric of black Calvin Klein underpants, Spike inhaled deeply and sighed in contentment. 

****

Spike remained in the shadows and watched as the Winchesters brothers entered the nest with electric flashlights and guns. Spike wondered why they would come at night and not wait to come back during the day. Well, the more convenient for him to follow. Maybe they liked their fun. Of course, the four vampires had the upper hand in the dark. The Winchesters were a treat to watch though. After discovering that their guns were useless, they switched to long blades and Dean cut off a vampire’s head clean in one blow. The bloke had stamina and balls. Struggling to follow the action but remain hidden, Spike lost track of the fight for a few seconds. For whatever obscure reason, the brothers had decided to split. Moments later Spike saw two scared kids go through the door and out, but nor Dean nor Sam was with them. The two brothers were calling each other’s names incessantly. Then only Dean’s shouts were heard. Dean’s tone was now worried bordering on frantic. Just when Spike was coming closer to throw in a few punches, Dean came up from the basement with his wounded brother in his arms. It smelt delicious and Spike bolted in the shadows and away to avoid snacking on his new crush’s brother. He remained hidden as Dean carefully helped Sam into the Impala before taking off at full speed. He could not shake the vision of Dean off his head. Focused eyes, tight jaw, eagle eye shots, and the long blade dancing in his hand and around him like a part of himself. Then it hit him.  
“Well that’s rich.” Spike grunted, kicking at some broken debris of furniture. Bloody brilliant. He was in love. Just like him to rebound from a heartbreak by falling with a vampire’s archnemesis. Very Spike to emulate his Sire’s most blatant failure. An Ensouled vampire in love with a Slayer. A Soulless vampire in love with a Hunter. It would have been hilarious if the joke hadn’t been on him. Pocketing some cash and jewelry, he trashed what was left of the nest, shouting in anger. And need. Spike was dying to get more of Dean Winchester. Possibly, all of it. Even at the risk of ending like Anne Boleyn. He was Loves’ bitch all over again. 

In no time Dean had taken Sam to the ER. Every town they visited, he always checked the major places upon arrival. Hospital, bar, music shop, cake shop. He knew the way and lost no time at the admission desk either, sweet talking the nurse in charge. Soon Sam was admitted even if they obviously were not the first there waiting. Standing near the coffee machine, Dean was a hot mess. Sam was wounded. It was not their first gig and Sam was a big tall guy, but of course he felt responsible. He was the one giving commands. He had to be more careful. Suddenly a doctor was near Dean to talk to him, and he could see Sam. The wound was not so bad, but he had lost a lot of blood. Relief almost submerged Dean, and he put a great show pretending that his brother was an annoying brat to complain for nothing and making him lose his time at the hospital when he could be having fun at the bar. Sam played his part too, but their eyes spoke volumes. With much ranting about having to sit on a bed of nails, Dean settled for the night on a plastic chair, his eyes never leaving Sammy. “Now who’s the one looking like crap, Man?” he teased. Sam moved his fingers on the white sheet and Dean covered the long hand with his. Sam was exhausted and he soon fell asleep, looking so innocent and vulnerable in his sleep, Dean’s stomach churned. 

Spike’s first idea had been to lure Sam to the abandoned factory, and then get a hold of Big Brother as soon as he would show up to rescue his Pup. Then he could catch him, chain him, and make him see his point of view from up close. There was nothing that a good pair of poking irons and happily clinging chains couldn’t solve. But something felt odd. Spike had a strange feeling in his guts. The last time he had chosen that approach, it had been a mess. Probably the factory was cursed or something. Or maybe him. Maybe it was time to address the problem differently. He could always reveal everything to Dean. Yeah, and count how many seconds it would take before going all poof in the air… How about Fyarl demons? He could tip the Winchesters about the lair, get the brothers in a tight spot, and rescue them White Hat style, getting good guy creds. They would be indebted to him. Oh, he would love that. Wait a minute… he could do that. Play the hero act to jump in this Hunter’s knickers once more. The Slayer had fallen for that one from Angel after all. And then they could all wear matching shirts and go on a double date. Oh God, he might as well stake himself.

***

It was late, Spike was starving. Sam had left the hospital and the brothers were back in session. Days and nights of obsessing about the Hunter and lurking around, and he hadn’t had a minute on his hands to go on a proper hunt. There were always a bunch of young fashionable people smoking and hanging around outside the shopping street near the park. He went there, hoping to take a lovely lady out for dinner. A pretty little thing was checking her phone a few steps away from her friends. He sat next to her. After half an hour he knew everything about her manipulative ex-boyfriend, and he had almost shed some tears, sharing how Dru had treated him.  
“What do you think”, Spike murmured to her after that she had put an arm around his waist to comfort him. “Do you think we are ready to move on and show them that we can do fine without them? Go somewhere else, yeah?” He asked her, long lashes batting on his blues eyes innocently. He heard her heart race, and she took his hand. He guided her towards the next alley. He walked her against a wall as soon as he found a good spot. She put her arms around him and started to kiss him, her soft neck calling him. He quietly morphed and sank his fangs in her. A signal went off in his brain, somewhere, a sound or something, something wasn’t right. He was so thirsty, now with her warm blood rushing through him, he tried to ignore it. It was the sound of a car stopping near the alley. That car stopping near the alley. He stopped drinking and cursed. 

This time Dean was going to make sure he had all his ducks in a row before making his move. There would be no screwing up. Only screwing. He had to find Spike and fuck him again. Or have Spike fuck him again. Either way, he was not leaving that place without another round of the best amazing hottest sex in his life. Problem was, the plate numbers did not check out when he had Sam work his magic at the keyboard. He could go with the idea of a car thief, after all, it was not like Spike was the image of a square dude. But the vanishing act he could not accept. For days he tried to find Spike. The DeSoto was nowhere to be seen, and according to the waitress, no bleached blond guy had come to the Bronze those last evenings. Another good reason to always ask for the phone number of a conquest before clothes flew in the air. Then it’s show time and phones are on the floor in crumbled clothes. And after Dean was usually tip-toeing towards the door, or the guy was quickly driving away before dawn…  
He could think about nothing else. Cruising with Baby around town in the evenings with Sam holding the EMF, Dean was keeping an eye opened for the DeSoto. Passing a dark alley near empty warehouses, he had a strange feeling. Something was fishy. Papers were whirling against the wall and one of the streetlights was dead. There. Redline. Sam nodded and pointed towards the left of the alley. Dean stopped the car and silently grabbed his gun. Something was attacking a girl; they could hear gargles mixed with her sobs.

“Sonofabitch, get away from her!” Dean shouted, firing three bullets.  
“Ow, Bloody Hell, that hurts!” Spike shouted. He released the bint, she screamed with her hands on her neck as she landed on her feet. Crying and panting, she ran away towards the street. Sam jumped at Spike and spread salt all around his feet.  
“Oi! Watch my boots!” Spike exclaimed. He turned slowly towards Dean, wiping some blood from his chin and licking his fingers.  
“Spike? Fuck, Man, what happened to you? What happened to your face?” Dean was in shock. Even with the grotesque features it was the best fuck Dean could remember standing right there, no doubt about it.  
“What can I say”, Spike answered, quietly lighting a fag. “My father was gone, my mother was sick, I fell in with the wrong crowd…”  
Dean wanted to puke. He had to ask the question, even if he already knew the answer in his guts. “When …?”  
“A long time before last week, mate.” Answered Spike, then he winked at Dean.  
Dean took it like a punch in the face. He clenched his jaw but kept staring at Spike with fiery eyes.  
“I know your style, Hunter. Shoot first, ask questions later, huh? Next time ask a bloke what’s his favourite food before shagging him.” Taunted Spike.  
“Fuck you, asshole!” Dean screamed. Sam was watching his brother, struggling to understand what was going on. “Dean… Do you know him, Dean? What’s going on?”  
“Next time we meet, Tequila shots are on me. I’ll show you what salt is good for.” Spike said to Dean, his tongue showing through his teeth in an obscene way that had Dean’s breath catch in his throat. Dean watched, his brain fried, his boots riveted to the ground as Spike sprang in the air, black leather duster flying around him. Landing on an emergency ladder meters away, he waited to see their faces, his arms crossed, his head cocked.  
“What’s the fuck!” Shouted Sam, aiming at Spike, but Dean, finally getting a grip, stopped him.  
“Sam, no!”  
There was a manhole cover a few meters away in the alley. It was time for Spike to take a bow. He lifted and waved his imaginary Stetson at them with his good hand, making a curtsy.  
“So long, Winchesters!” shouted Spike, then he disappeared in the shadows.  
“Go to the car, Sam!” Barked Dean, tossing Sam his keys. “Go back to the motel. This one is personal.” He quickly found the manhole. He jumped in the dark after Spike.

Spike was leaving a big trail behind him, with the three bullets in his left shoulder and chest. Soon the Hunter would pick it up and close on him. He had half a mind of just waiting for him and get done with it on the spot. He slowed his pace and inhaled. Sure enough, the bloke was already in the tunnel. Spike waited.  
Dean jumped at him and pummeled Spike hard. Spike blocked the Hunter’s fist after a few blows and low kicked nastily, sweeping and turning. Dean landed on his back in a big splash in the muddy water. Spike jumped on him and punched him in the face for good measure before grabbing his neck. Dean was struggling to keep his face out of the water.  
“Are you going to behead me too, Hunter?” Spike asked.  
“Why not? It’s my job!” Dean spitted. “How do you know about what we do, you freak??”  
Spike morphed back to his human feature.  
“I know a lot about you, Dean Winchester. I won’t kill you, Hunter”. He said softly. “You’re all I bloody think about.” He added, a soft whisper in Dean’s ear.  
Dean almost choked at the sudden change of tone and at the sight of the soft features. In the grey light, Spike’s blue eyes were like starry skies.  
Spike dragged him on his feet and against his body, pinning him against the wall with his hands above his head. With one thigh between Dean’s leg, he grinded against the Hunter, the scent of his blood calling to him, the fury and betrayal in Dean’s eyes sending shivers of need to Spike’s lower back.  
“This thing with you is wrong, Hunter. I know it. But I can’t help it. I need you”.  
Spike kissed Dean, hard, and after a short struggle, Dean kissed him back, his tongue invading Spike’s mouth with a soft whimper escaping from his throat. Spike ground his erection against Dean’s jeans, feeling him harden against him. He slowly licked a long line from Dean’s collar to the back of his ear, and felt Dean turn into stone in his arms. Dean’s knee hit him hard in the groin, and Spike roared. He bolted away and disappeared in the dark tunnel. 

Spike’s words were hunting Dean. He found his way back to the alley and sat there, his face in his hands. He could not go back to the room and see the worried look on Sam’s face at the sight of his bloody face. What would he tell him? That the best fuck of his life, the guy with a sissy but sexy British accent that he was obsessing on for nights and days now, was not even a guy, but a demon, like the one they were here to hunt? That he was a cold blood killer, a monster? That Dean had failed to do his job, torn by wrong feelings? That even if they played on the opposite side of the field, Dean still wanted to fuck him and feel Spike’s cock inside him? He could not explain how that was even possible to want somebody that much, to see his own body betray him the second their skin touched. It probably was because he was a monster too. He had failed to save innocents; people had lost their lives because of him in the past. A poor guy had been stripped of his life for Dean to be able to live. Dean’s hands too were covered in blood.  
The sky was turning pink and light blue when Dean reluctantly stood up and made his way back to the motel.  
“Don’t. I’m Ok.” he said, lifting his hand as soon as Sam opened his mouth at the sight of him. Then he pulled down the iron shutter in front of his face and went to the bathroom to clean himself. Sam called after him behind the door. He didn’t answer and went to his bed without looking at Sam.  
The following days, Dean tried to focus on work, wishing he had never met that damned bloodsucker in the first place. Unfortunately, they found these yellow eyes vampire demon mutants everywhere. The vamps would burst into dust when the blade cut into their neck. Sam also brought a wooden stake and a strike to the heart proved to be as efficient and easier. They were usually pretty nasty fuckers, some stronger than others. There were nests all around town. This place was Vamp City. Dean was starting to fear that their next discovery would be a kind of necropolis like the one in From Dusk till Dawn, minus Salma Hayek. Whenever they found a new nest, he was sure that Spike would be there and that he would be the one that had to dust him. It was making him sick. 

****

Dean was sitting at the Bronze, steadily getting himself wasted. He was still trying to get over it. How could he let his guard down to the point of making a fool of himself like this and risking his brother’s safety? If anything had happened to Sam… And still, he could not forget Spike. ‘What would he do if Spike would appear right now’ had become his worst nightmare. Sometimes he would let him live and feel awful. Sometimes, he would kill the bastard, and feel even worse. Dean had lost the will to fight. He was miserable. Even knowing Spike’s demonic nature, he could not hate him. Suddenly he felt that he was being watched. The mirror behind the bar told him nothing. Slowly checking behind his shoulder, he saw Spike standing nearby, his body tensed and ready to break away, interrogative blue eyes on Dean, lips parted in a silent plead. Dean looked the other way. Then sighed. He was weak. He was not worthy of his family’s trust. He might as well drink the cup down to the last drop. He slowly looked up from under his lashes. Spike was still staring at him, his hurt feelings all over his face, on the verge of leaving. The thought of Spike disappearing again and for good sent an ice-cold shiver down Dean’s spine. He raised his glass to Spike, pointing at the seat near him with his chin. Spike’s face lit up, he straightened his back and came closer in one fast long step. Dean’s heart sank at the view of the change in Spike’s attitude. Could it be that Spike, too, was that much hopeful?  
“Mind if I join?” asked Spike, and Dean’s heart skipped a beat at the sound of the low voice.  
Pointing at the bottles on the racks, Dean asked: “What’s your poison?”  
Spike leaned closer to him and put a hand on Dean’s thigh. Cocking his head slightly, he murmured in Dean’s hear. “You are my poison, Hunter.” 

Spike could not be alone with Dean fast enough. He had come to the Bronze against his best resolutions, unable to resist anymore the fire gnawing at him from inside his un-beating heart, the hope that maybe, miraculously, Dean would accept him for what he was. Dean should decide to show up there again, it would probably only turn into an ugly fight once more, he knew it. And yet he had come. Spike froze. Dean was there, drinking at the bar, away from the last few remaining customers. Hope crashed on Spike. He had to give it one last shot.  
And now against all odds Dean was pulling him towards his car, then the Hunter was in his arms again, kissing him ferociously, almost biting Spike’s tongue in his haste, tugging on his shirt and almost ripping it, roaring like a tiger. That human was wild, and strong, and Spike could not wait to tame him, to break him under his will, have him moan and plead him. He grabbed firmly Dean’s head and guided him down on his cock. “Suck me hard, Hunter, make me feel how you want me inside you”, he commanded. Dean’s green eyes flashed in anger, or lust, or both, and he growled deep in his chest, almost chocking himself on Spike’s dick, taking him deep in his mouth, his nails scrapping at Spike’s chest. “Goddamn’ hot you are, Dean. Look at you, such a wild animal.” He guided Dean, imposing a fast tempo, and Dean responded even more desperately, almost challenging Spike to push his limits further, bobbing his head in a furry and sucking with all his strength, hands squeezing and scratching. Spike could not hold it any longer. He had been so desperate at the thought of never possessing the Hunter ever again, having now Dean suck him like his very life depended on it, sparkling green eyes locked on him, it was too much. Spike forgot everything and released violently in Dean’s mouth, shouting in ecstasy, his head backwards on the Impala’s seat, one hand pushing against the ceiling and threatening to dent the roof. 

Dean could not control himself anymore. The deep blue eyes, the strong chin line, the luscious lips, the pleasure sounds Spike made, he was bewitched, high on adrenalin. Spike’s mouth tasted of death, of pain, of danger. It was intoxicating and more powerful than anything he had ever tasted. He trailed kisses against Spike’s chin and down his neck, sucking and biting, licking the spicy and sweet flavor. He needed to see Spike’s chest. The wound was still visible where Deans’s bullets had hit their target, but the flesh was already healing. Seeing his mark on the vampire made him even harder. Grinding his throbbing cock against Spike he sucked hard at a nipple, feeling the skin warm up against his lips. Spike grabbed his head and forced him down on his cock with dirty words that almost made Dean come in his boxer briefs. Dean had never felt more alive. He needed to make Spike his own, to suck him dry. Dean needed to be filled up and made whole again. He wanted Spike to bend him, to break him and make him surrender, only because he knew that he was strong enough to cope with it. Spike came all over his mouth and Dean swallowed all like a thirsty man would drink at a heavenly well. It was not enough. The connection between them was over too soon. Dean opened his jeans and released his cock, stroking himself aggressively against Spike’s taunt stomach muscles. He wanted to see Spike’s demonic face. He grabbed Spike behind his neck for leverage and straddling him, he had Spike look up at him. “Show me your true face, bastard!” Dean barked. The sudden imperious tone had Spike snarl aggressively in response but made him get hard again against Dean’s ass. Spike let his face morph at Dean’s command. Dean hands went to Spike’s face to stroke his forehead. Running his thumb against Spike’s lips, then his fangs, he gazed intently in the magnetic yellow eyes. Spike at first held Dean’s stare, but soon averted his eyes, afraid of Dean’s reaction. Ignoring the sudden shyness, Dean grabbed his kukri knife from its hidden compartment and connected it with Spike’s bulging Adam’s Apple in one swift movement. “Now I want you to bite me and drink, vampire. And you’d better stop when I tell you, or my last move will be to send your ass to Hell”, croaked Dean. He offered his palm to Spike’s mouth, challenging him to do his worst.  
Spike moaned and sank his teeth in Dean’s flesh, taking a long slow first sip, and then one more, and one more, and suddenly they were one. They roared their pleasure and came together against Spike’s chest, lost in each other’s gaze, cold and hot juices blended. Spike cut the bound, morphing back to his human features, and Dean dropped the knife.  
“You’re mine, now, Hunter” said Spike softly, licking the wound. “And you’re mine, Vampire” answered Dean in a whisper, stroking Spike’s closing bullet wound. 

His brother was not at the bar. Sam was about to go back to the motel on foot, resigned, when a last visual check of the parking lot revealed the Impala in a dark corner. His eyes narrowed. The car was rocking, windows slightly foggy. What a surprise, he thought bitterly, Dean was having fun with a girl at the very moment. Sam shivered. His fists clenched, he should just get away and forget it, but he couldn’t. His feet were already moving against his will. He felt like a moth soon to meet its shiny fate. Bracing himself for the usual porn high pitched mewing soundtrack calling Dean’s name, he got silently closer, stopping at a safe distance in the shadows. He heard muffled moans and wet sounds. She was probably giving Dean a good blowjob. Sam felt a hot rush and his cock filled up. He stopped himself from readjusting himself. He needed the pain of that pressure. He heard Dean whine and grunt. God, he was about to ruin his jeans. Then he heard the second voice. It was deep with a rasp, and it was unmistakably masculine. Sam had to grab the railing on the roof of the car he was leaning to to prevent himself from falling, his legs giving way under him. 

****

Dean was getting suspicious bitch face from Sam almost daily now. Doing research online until late, Sam was tired and resentful.  
“God, Dean! Why do I have to do all the work alone?” Sam had ranted.  
To take him off his back Dean had volunteered to go do some reckon around town to find and mark lairs on the map. Oh, Dean had nothing to really be ashamed of, after all he had visited many locations during the week. Various crypts, a garden shed, numerous back alleys, two empty villas, and even an empty pool, closed for renovation. Hell, that one had been particularly painful, the tiles had left quite a mark on his back.  
Every evening the good folks of Sunnydale could see two black classic cars racing around town. Complaints were made. But the respectful Sunnydale Police was too busy with the crimes wave and the rise in all the sudden deaths to really care about road safety.  
It was almost like a honeymoon. Spike and Dean even drove to the top of the hill and watched the stars and the glistening lights of Sunnydale below them, listening to Metallica’s Black Album, quietly lying and snuggling on the hood of the Impala. Dean felt happier than he had been for years. A perfect chick-flick moment followed by hot sex. They fought guys together at a bar over a dart contest, they played pool. Dean won the game. Spike always won the drinking contests. For such a slim dude he drank bourbon like water. For the first time Dean could share the simple things he loved with somebody who was not family. For the first time in forever, or the first time ever, he had a friend, that belonged to him only. And Spike could have said the same, had they talked about it. 

“That motorbike is yours, Pet!” Spike was beaming, a flyer in his hand. Their favorite biker bar was having a huge event, and the sponsors were offering a Norton Commando to the winners of the annual Poker Tournament.  
“Want me to tear you a new one? Stop calling me pet! You’re so cute when you’re excited like that, Honey! You look like a kid at Christmas!” Dean teased in revenge.  
Spike growled. “Hey! Shut your gob. I’ll show you ‘cute’ later.” He leered.  
A few players had suddenly left the game after a break. Dean wondered if it had something to do with Spike. Or with his own special trick. Probably both. They left the poker tournament on their brand-new bike. They were planning to go back to their spot at the top of the hill to enjoy the bends and turns on the road, but they did not even make it that far. With the vibrations, the feeling of Dean pressed behind his back and then Dean’s hands resolutely squeezing his cock over his leather pants, Spike could not wait any longer. He stopped the Commando in the woods but let the engine idling. He grabbed Dean, pulled him in the front, sitting him on top of him and kissed him deeply, his hands all over his body. Dean leaned backwards and offered himself to Spike. He had to grab the bike’s handles to keep his balance and find some leverage to lift his hips and thrust in Spike’s mouth, his legs clenched around Spike’s hips. The warm fuel tank slowly vibrating under his balls was sending electric sparks of pleasure deep in him. The contrast with Spike’s cool lips and tongue around his cock was a sweet torture. He was not sure if he could survive the killer blowjob he was receiving. He was about to paint the whole bike in cum. “Wait, stop! Dean pleaded. “I want to feel you inside me when I come…” Spike lifted him in a blink and killed the engine. With Dean’s legs around his waist he walked into the woods, Dean nuzzling his neck. Dean felt his jeans being ripped and suddenly he was pressed against the cold bark of a tree, with Spike’s fingers kneading his ass and stroking his hole. “I love it when you beg for my cock, Hunter”, purred Spike in his ear. Dean cringed when the bark scratched his sensitive back.  
“Come here, Luv”, said Spike, putting his duster on the grass, he helped Dean get comfortable under him. His eyes on his beautiful gasping Hunter offered to him, he took off his t-shirt and got rid of his boots, removing his belt excruciatingly slowly.  
Feverish under such a lascivious gaze, Dean tried to grab him, but Spike took a step back and removed his pants slowly, a smug grin on his lips.  
“Shit, Vampire, now fuck me already, or I swear to god I’ll shoot ya again.”  
“Such a dirty mouth. You need some Devil’s mouthwash, is that it?” crooned Spike, getting on his knees, he crawled all the way up to Dean’s face and gave him his glistening hard cock. Dean licked him clean and went to suck his balls. Almost sitting on Dean’s face, Spike started to insert more and more fingers in his Hunter’s hot ass until Dean was moaning around Spike’s cock and moving his hips desperately. Spike went down and leaned on Dean, and sucked on his perineum, toying with him, eager to see how far he could take his pretty pet.  
“Don’t lose your nerve, Hunter, I’ll make you feel so good, you will come for me long and hard” Spike assured. He swirled his tongue around Dean’s hole and pierced his lower lip with his fang. He let his blood drip on Dean, making a hot mess, red rivulets on his chin, fucking Dean’s ass with his pointy tongue. The cool and velvety moisture on his sensitive skin had Dean in a frenzy.  
“Oh God, so… good…Ya like me lookin’ like a bleedin’ virgin, don’t ya, Perv’…yes, deeper, Oh God, need your cock deep in me…” Dean was struggling to make sense.  
This time Spike could not tease any longer and lifted Dean’s leg on top of his shoulder. He yelled as he possessed Dean’s ass at last in one long smooth thrust.  
When they felt tied together, they both exhaled a long sigh of pleasure and relief, finally moving together as one. 

***

At the library, Sam had been introduced to the Slayer’s team.  
Obviously, there was something going on between the lovely Buffy Summers and that dark Angel guy. She would lean against him slightly ever so often, he would stare at her profile, and God Sam even caught the dude sniffing at her hair at some point. Not that he was watching her. Well, yeah, she was fucking gorgeous, and maybe he did watch her a little more than conversation required. She was wearing a cropped top that revealed almost all her flat stomach, and her tiny navel. Her beautiful green eyes, her blond hair… he would not even go there. She had to be blond, for pity’s sake. His heart sank in his chest, the familiar emotional sucker-punch every time he let himself think about Jessica hitting him.  
Willow Rosenberg was fidgeting. He could imagine she wanted to ask something about hunting, but something was stopping her. After a few attempts and a last look at Buffy for approval, Willow took a deep breath and tried to set her eyes on Sam.  
“So, what is, hum, you Hunters’ policy on werewolves?”  
When he came back to the motel room, Dean was out again. He didn’t answer his phone. Sam was getting worried. He did his best to be a good Hunter, to be a funny brother, to be opened and keep his cool, in the hope that Dean would talk to him about what was going on. And still Dean shut him out. What else could he do?

Even during their best times together, Spike could tell that Dean was not 100% Spike’s. There was a part of Dean that was not the vampire’s yet. That part had long messy hair, a cheeky pointy nose and was as nerdy as they can get. Dean was obsessed with him. He would always leave Spike suddenly and hurry back to the other Hunter. Part of Dean was always worrying about baby brother and thinking about Sam. Or talking about him. Or unconsciously comparing himself to him. Spike needed to do something about that. If possible, something pleasant. He could feel Dean’s longing, and these last days the usual brotherly bickering had slowly escalated to disputes and arguments. He told Dean to spend the day with his brother and that he would call him later in the evening. They needed some brotherly fun time. Dean was all excited and thanked Spike for the good idea. 

Dean drove Sam through Sunnydale. He was overly excited and had a look on his face that reminded Sam of their best moments together as kids. Dean had found the address of an art gallery online. They had a special collection of native American artifacts on display for the month. He was not that much into beads and pots, but he wanted to take Sam somewhere special. To make up for ditching him so often lately. Dean had noticed that Sam always took a deep interest in ritual objects and artefacts during their job.  
The curator was charming and welcomed them warmly, giving them an enthusiastic tour of the gallery. While the lady and Sam discussed happily about origins and purpose, Dean just watched Sam. He was warming up, using his hands a lot. Dean noticed how the little black band on Sam’s wrist emphasized the length of his fingers, the bulge of his forearm muscle. Dean quickly looked at the display case again. Sam was trying to explain that objects could be infused with magic properties, and the lady advised him to be particularly cautious around African sculptures and masks. They promised to come again for the next collection. Dean’s feet were killing him, and he was starving. Sam was walking fast in long energetic strides when they left the art gallery and Dean struggled to follow. He felt bad for leaving Sam alone so much lately, but time with Spike just flew by. And he hadn’t just thought like a chick in love right now. Sam sent him his special dimple smile and Dean’s heart melted.  
“It’s good to see ya all smiley and chatty, Man”, he told his brother, with a punch on the shoulder. “Now let’s put some cheeseburgers in that big mouth of yours.”  
They had a great lunch and even went to the movies to catch up on the latest action blockbusters. Dean only checked his phone twice. Both times his brother was looking at him. He made a face and pointed at the screen.  
“Action’s there, Man!” Dean told Sam. The second time he was happy to find a message from Spike. They were to meet later that night evening in front of the brothers’ motel. 

“What did you want to show me?” asked Dean, growing suspicious and uneasy in the parking lot of their motel. “Relax, he’s sleeping. Follow me”. Spike led Dean towards the door. “I don’t want any more secrets between us. Ever.” He opened it and let Dean enter the room. Spike’s black duster was on the bed. It was his room. And Dean saw the pictures.  
He was standing there in shock, his blood already boiling, his fists clenched. “You’re a creep, Man! What’s with the altar? Did you put the whammy on me, ya asshole?”  
“It’s not a spell. You can’t trust magic. It always comes with a price. This is my… private collection.” Spike said sternly.  
Dean was looking around. Their room was next door.  
“Why here? Did you listen to us?”  
“Let me come clean, Dean. Then you can decide if you want me to leave. I will leave if you ask me to. Yes. I am sorry. Wait. I’m not. I couln’t help myself. This is what I am. I tracked you down after our first night. I listened to you and learnt a lot. Soon I could not get enough of the Winchester Brothers. Look what I did.” Spike showed Dean how to remove the picture on the wall to peep through the hole.  
Dean was looking at him like he would look at a spook. Any second now he was going to reach for his gun. Reluctantly, Dean checked in the other room.  
“Shit, this is sick! And I have met crazy bastards in the past years. But this takes the cake.” Dean was mad.  
Spike tried to reach over him. Dean almost jumped away, his body rigid, eyes hard.  
“Give me a minute. I so want to punch your nose right now.” Dean breathed heavily.  
Spike shoulders crumbled. “I knew you would hate me. I understand. There is one last thing though.” Spike’s voice was only a murmur.  
“More? How can there be more?” Dean shouted, before realizing that he was loud and might awaken Sam. He quickly checked through the hole, but Sam was quietly sleeping. He was so peaceful, oblivious to Dean’s life falling apart meters from him. Dean sighed.  
“Ok, I am ready. How worse can it get?”  
“Brace yourself, tough guy”, answered Spike. He opened the mini fridge door. There were various jars of blood, and a few plastic hospital blood packs. 

Dean was confused. It was not what he had expected. He was ready to discover a small rag doll looking just like him with strings attached around it or some other crazy hoodoo shit.  
“Care to explain?” Dean asked.  
“I haven’t hurt anyone for days, Dean. For you. Not only for you. I got so close to you and your brother, it made me think about humans a little bit more. I guess I was too eager to forget how it was to be human. My experience was not the most… fulfilling. But I saw you fight and risk your life for people you don’t even know. I wanted to try a new lifestyle, I guess. My Sire, the guy who made me, kind of, he’s a stupid wanker, but he has been leaving on that stuff lately, so I decided to give it a go. Plus that Slayer bitch would love to dust me if she found me on the juice.”  
Spike sat on the bed. He was exhausted. That was a long honest speech. Dean sat near him. He was totally confused now.  
“Who? Your ex-girlfriend is a Slayer fan?”  
“The Slayer. The Barbie version of you Hunters guys. You don’t want to meet her, trust me.”  
“Whatever. You’re really something. What a sick bastard. What’s in the jars?” Dean was still suspicious, but somehow, he felt better now that he knew everything.  
“I try different … deli from the Butcher’s. Tastes awful though. I’m experimenting with recipes but...Nothing beats refined Dean.” Spike finished in a soft purr. He leaned and stole a kiss.  
Dean pushed him away.  
“Fuck off. No more stalking and stealing my stuff. And that pile over there’d better not be my underwear. I had to go hunting with my ass naked in my jeans.” Dean ranted, but he could not be angry anymore. He really was a hopeless chick. When Spike lifted his eyebrow like this, it was game over. Or rather, game on. He didn’t want to show Spike how easily he would actually take all this.  
“Do you have any alcohol, amongst your gross … deli take-outs? I really need a drink.”

It was going even better than Spike had hoped. He had to call Angel and brag a little. He was so much better at this gig that the stupid wanker. But better not. He didn’t want that nosey bastard too close to his precious Hunter. It was already hard enough to avoid him around town. Spike went to his fridge to get lime quarters. He turned to the mini bar and brought back a bottle of Tequila, shots glasses and salt. He got their two shots ready on the bed side table.  
“I told you I knew a better use for salt”, he whispered, tilting his head, crouching between Dean’s legs. His eyes locked on Dean, Spike deliberately put his finger in his mouth and licked it slowly, before dipping it in the salt and coating it. He slowly lifted his hand to Dean’s face and waited. He relished in the changes in Dean’s eyes and attitude. The pretty bloke literally melted. Spike’s cock rose and pushed against his belt to be released. Dean hesitated a few more seconds, and gave in. He took Spike’s finger in his mouth and whirled his tongue around it, licking it clean. He made a face at the salty taste. Spike handed him his shot and Dean downed it. Spike put a lime quarter in his mouth and Dean came to suck on it. Spike helped Dean out of his shirt and t-shirt. He took a pinch of salt and delicately put it in the little valley created by Dean’s well-defined collarbone. He slowly ran his tongue on Dean’s skin, sending a long shiver in Dean’s body. He kissed Dean, sharing the salt with him, then he took a sip in his mouth and leaned down for a burning kiss, pouring the alcohol in Dean’s mouth. Dean moaned and grabbed Spike’s butt to bring him closer. Spike brought the next quarter of lime to their mouths and their tongues met around it. He threw the lime and shoved his tongue deep in his hot Hunter’s mouth. 

They were so loud suddenly that Dean freaked out. The bed was rattling against the wall. And what if Sam heard his voice? Dean stopped mid-thrust. Spike panted “Don’t… stop… bastard!” Then he looked behind him and saw Dean’s worried look. “What is it, Pet?”  
“He’s …gonna hear us!” Dean spluttered. His cock lost half of its hardness in an instant.  
“Don’t you worry, Luv. I bet it would not bother him that much.” Said Spike.  
“What do you mean?” asked Dean, a little bit lost. Synapses would not connect efficiently with his cock shoved up Spike’s tight ass.  
“He calls your name at night.” Simply answered Spike, as if it made things clearer.  
“I know, his bad dreams are a bitch since his girlfriend was murdered.” Explained Dean.  
“Not these kinds of dreams, Pet. And sometimes he is not even sleeping.” Spike tilted his head and slowly resumed his hips moves.  
Dean’s cock twitched when he got Spike’s point. Sam, dreaming about him and calling his name? Not sleeping and calling his name..? He could not even go there. Had to be dreaming. In that way? That was impossible. And sick. And he was totally not getting all hard again over this. It was only Spike’s wriggles around his cock. He shut his eyes and put the image of his brother’s boner and soft sleepy whimpers deep in the designated disturbing thoughts about Sam vault, pushed the heavy safety door on it and turned the handle a few times in his head. Spike managed to free one hand from the belt loop tying them to the bedframe. He gave Dean a smug look and started quickly jerking himself off in rhythm with Dean’s pounding, challenging the Hunter. “I said no touchin for you, bitch!” Dean roared, grabbing Spike’s hand and lifting it up again against the bed frame. “Now call me Sir if you want to come” he commanded. It came to him easier than he had thought. Spike growled a little and Dean increased his pace to the maximum he could give. He was now covered in sweat and his muscles were burning. It was rough, but oh so good. Fuck, by the sounds of Spike’s moans it wasn’t the fare punishment Dean was going for yet. He pinched Spike’s nipple, hard, and Spike was so close, he pleaded Dean. “Fuck yes, Hunter, hurt me good, do your worst.”  
Dean spanked the slim white ass with one hand. He thrusted harder and deeper, hitting Spike’s sweet spot like a hammer, his fingernails deep in Spike’s marble-like hips indents. He squeezed Spike’s throbbing cock, making him whine and howl Dean’s name, coming all over the pillows. With slapping noises and shouts like these, Sam had to be awake and all ears by now. His own orgasm was soon rushing through his veins, making his head explode and his come spurt in hot jets in Spike’s clenching hole. 

***

During daytime while Spike was sleeping, Dean made a new batch of silver bullets. He carved a new mold and used some silver to cast a ring for Spike’s chain, and the matching band for himself. Happy with the final pieces, he broke into Spike’s room. Part of him was very curious about how Spike spent his time away from him. An honest to himself Dean (which was not his trademark to say the least) would have admitted that he was dying to see Spike asleep. After a quick glimpse at the sleeping vampire on the bed, Dean went first to check the fridge to make sure nothing fishy was going on. There, see? That was professional as fuck. He counted the jars. Some plastic blood bags had disappeared, and new ones were replacing them. He almost sighed in relief.  
He slowly got closer to the bed. The vampire was naked, covers halfway down his slim and taut body. Dean swallowed hard and tried not to make a fool of himself with any kind of girly stuff like taking a picture with his phone. Would Spike even appear on the picture? He had to test the lore. Yeah, for … the sake of… research. He snapped a picture that could easily be magazine cover material. Then he removed his boots, socks and jeans and climbed into the bed. He put an arm around Spike’s chest. The still vampire was cold and hard as stone and the feeling of snuggling a corpse was pretty disturbing, after all the grave digging and such that Dean had done since his father had given him his first shovel with his first second-hand remote control car. Spike’s skin was getting warmer at his contact. He put the cover back on them and closed his eyes, feeling so peaceful, his mind for once empty. It was quiet in the room with only the humming noise coming from the fridge and soon Dean fell asleep.  
He was awakened by a strong body spooning him and Spike’s kisses in his neck. “Better not be a knife ya’re putting at me down there, or I punch you one”, Dean said, his hand leaving the gun he had grabbed under the pillow instants before, reaching Spike’s hip and bringing him closer.  
“Good evening, Gorgeous”, answered Spike, unshakable, before rolling on top of Dean. “You come to a bloke’s bed; you have to accept the consequences.”  
“I came to give ya somethin.” Dean grabbed the silver ring in his jeans’ pocket from the floor near the bed.  
“I made new bullets. I enjoyed putting some into your chest, but I thought ya might prefer them like this?” he added, carefully checking Spike’s expression. The vamp was opening his mouth and Dean flinched.  
“Don’t make me regret this with a smart-ass comment, Bloodsucker!” He threatened.  
But Spike took the silver band and looked at it quietly.  
“Thanks, Dean.” Spike simply answered, his eyes sparkling, and Dean’s heart made a weird move, like he wanted to escape from his chest or blow the room or something. Dean opened Spike’s chain’s clasp. The narrow ring looked perfect, dangling there from the chain, on the beautiful white skin. He took the matching ring on his own chain out of his t-shirt and showed it to Spike.  
“I think that I am in love, Hunter”, Spike said softly with a delicious rasp.  
Spike was watching him intensely. Five different expressions crossed Dean’s face in an instant. It was easily the scariest thing he had done in his whole damned life. He gathered his strength and took the plunge.  
“I might have the same problem.” he said in a breath. 

They were back at the Bronze later in the evening. Spike kept on trying to kiss him and grope him in the crowd and even in front of the barmaid. Dean did not like it. Spike did like it very much. They climbed the stairs to the balcony on the second floor and Dean grabbed the handrail and leaned forward, interested in the pool tables. A guy clumsily lined up his pool shot, and Dean was grinning at the obvious outcome when he felt a tongue invading his hear.  
“Oh, gross, man!” He exclaimed. Unfortunately for the credibility of his disgusted and outraged tone, the feeling of a pointy and warm tongue twirling inside him sent an electric spark straight to his groin. His heart skipped a beat. Spiked hummed low and Dean’s cock reacted instantly.  
Dean sent the vampire a nasty round elbow strike to the throat. Too bad that it only got Spike more steamed up and his grip hardened like steel on Dean’s hips.  
“Love it when you wriggle like that.” Spike teased, his voice getting huskier and his cock expanding against Dean’s ass.  
“Stop that! Not everybody is a fucking exhib deviant vamp around here!” Dean fought back.  
Glass shattered somewhere nearby and he searched for the source of the noise, but Spike grabbed him by his chin and turned Dean’s face toward him.  
“Don’t worry, ‘s just some jealous bloke making a scene. What we do for love…”  
He purred, and Dean let him kiss him.  
Lost in the intense kiss, with decades of experience worthy tongue turning him into a fucking whining teenage girl, Dean did not see Sam, looking like somebody had stabbed him in the back, a broken glass in his hand, staring at them from the stairs. 

“Ohh, yeah.. yeah… Hmm, do that again…Wait! Did you catch that?” Spike panted, his head suddenly up.  
“Catch what?” asked Dean, but it sounded more like “ka wa?” that with Spike’s cock in his mouth and all. The humming made Spike moan.  
“Ngh! Stop it, somethin’s wrong.” Added Spike, grabbing Dean’s arm and helping him on his feet. ‘It reeks of magic”.  
“God, can ya smell it? Weirdo!” Said Dean, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. He followed Spike who zipped himself back up and took five long steps on the right. They reached a kind of small building at the end of the alley and Spike listened intently.  
A young girlish voice was saying “It has to work. My friend Amy gave me the instructions and got everything together.”  
“Tracy, are you sure we should be doing this? I’m scared!” answered a second girl.  
“Don’t you chicken on me now, Pat. Don’t you wanna stop him? I can’t take any more.”  
Spike turned to Dean.  
“Seems like two sodding bints are casting a spell up there”, Spike indicated the balcony on the second floor.  
“I can’t hear a thing. Good Spike, we should get you a leash or something.” Said Dean, before adding: “Hey, we should get you a leash.” Lustfully grinning at the idea.  
“Hold that thought” answered Spike, before pointing his chin at the work at hand.  
“After ya, mate. What’s a sodding bint, a kind of witch?”, asked Dean, and watched in awe as Spike went all superhero in the night.  
“Show off!”, Dean said, before doing his best to climb quickly. It took him a little more time and an emergency ladder, but he made it to the balcony instants later. Spike was going to kick through the window.  
“Wait, let me try first”, murmured Dean, taking his tools out of his pocket, he quickly unlocked the door.  
“How does it work?” Pat was asking.  
“We show him the picture, and the demon goes after our enemy.” Answered Tracy. I just don’t know how long it tak..” She could not finish as a huge flash of vibrating light went through the room, blasting their makeshift altar and the TV screen above it. A giant hairy creature was now standing in their living room, snarling at them. The girls screamed.  
Spike shouted to Dean “Get the bints!” and threw himself at the demon who was going for one of the girl’s hair. Dean shot but the bullet only ricocheted off the demon’s hairy chest and went through the wall. He let go of his gun and got his knife ready. Grabbing the scared girls crouching on the floor, he helped them to get up and had them run towards the kitchen. “Now grab some salt and pour it in front of the door! You keep that door closed with these chairs and you stay here!” He instructed them, hoping the salt would work, before rushing to help Spike. He had not enough time to get close enough to connect the knife. The bastard grabbed him with his long arm and sent him flying to the opposite wall where Dean hit a bookshelf. Spike morphed to his game face and jumped on the demon’s back. After a mean struggle he managed to break the creature’s neck from behind.  
“Dean!” He shouted. In a blink he was near Dean and checking him for wounds. There was a small scratch near Dean’s hairline, but he was ok, only a little bit stunned, maybe. Spike slowly licked the little red rivulet. Now he could see how his Sire got his kicks.  
“Now that’s a fine date if you ask me”, he crooned, already grinding against Dean.  
“Come on, give me a minute, Perv.” Dean blinked to focus. “I have to check on them.” Dean gestured towards the kitchen. “And what do we do about the mess?”  
“Let me make a phone call. I know a guy. Deals all sort of… loose parts. We can even get some dosh.” Spike was taking his phone out of his pocket, morphing back.  
“They’re not even witches. How did they manage to pull that one?” Dean was bewildered, checking the prints ‘How to design occult symbols’ and other internet crap, kitchen spices and broken decorative candles littering the floor.  
“Welcome to Sunnydale”, answered Spike.  
“That fucktard was ugly as hell! What was it anyway?” Asked Dean.  
“Dunno…but that was a bad timing. You have unfinished business to take care of when we get back to the motel, Hunter.” Spike murmured in Dean’s ear.

Dean stopped Baby in the motel parking lot. A hand on him, Spike prevented Dean from opening his door.  
“Lil’bro is in my room. He’s hot under the collar.” Spike warned.  
“What? Hot? Why would Sam come to your room?” Dean was already starting to boil.  
Spike rolled his eyes. “S’ not that, Luv. He lost his cool.” Dean was still waiting.  
“Hello!? He’s mad at you, Dean. He found out about us.” Spike patiently explained.  
“I should let you boys alone.”  
Dean hesitated. “You’re coming too. It’s high time we have that talk. Let’s go.”  
Dean went first.  
“It’s me, Sam. Ya here?” He opened the door and turned on the light. Sam was sitting at the table near the TV with his machete on his lap.  
“Keep your cool, Man.” Dean raised his hands. “You won’t need this, Sam. Spike is clean.” Dean checked in the corner but luckily the sick little altar was gone, only candles and bottles left on the bedside table.  
Sam slowly got to his feet, taking a long breath in to remain calm. Spike closed the door and quietly went to his fridge, unconcerned. The two brothers faced each other, Dean looking up and trying to read his brother’s face. But Sam was avoiding his eyes, hair hiding his face, fist clenched, shivering a little.  
“How could you, Dean? You shut me out and gave me crap again.” Attacked Sam.  
“Are you going to leave me and go with him?” he asked Dean, his voice breaking.  
That was not the talk that Dean was expecting. His jaw dropped a little and he tried to reassure Sam.  
“Sammy, what are you saying? I’m not going anywhere. There are plenty of jobs around here. Heck, we just come back from a hunt.”  
“You took him hunting? Don’t you know what he is?” Sam called out.  
“He is a vampire, Sam. But he is not a killer. Not anymore.” Dean tried to explain. Spike was leaning against the fridge, smoking. He lifted his blood jar and said “Cheers.”  
With another angry outburst, Sam grabbed Dean by his jacket and shook him. “I saw him feed, Man. You were there too. I thought you took care of it. You said you would.”  
“I couldn’t, Sam, I’m sorry,OK? I’m sorry I lied to you. But Spike changed, Sammy. He saved two girls not an hour ago.”  
Sam gave Dean a long inquisitive look. Then nodded faintly as if he had confirmed a theory.  
“And the rest? When were you planning on telling me? About… whatever’s between you…” Sam trailed.  
“Not sure if it concerns you, Sam.” Grumbled Dean.  
“Dean, why do we stay here? We’ve been here forever. Give me some credit, man. I figured out a lot about this place while you were… busy. There is already a Hunter here, she is called the Slayer.” Sam waited. Dean didn’t flinch.  
“I knew it. Your vamp told you already, didn’t he? Why did you remain silent?!” asked Sam between his teeth.  
Dean sighed. “I thought… if you knew, you would decide to leave her this town and go to the next hunt… I couldn’t have it right now.” Dean was pitiful. Let go of the high ground did cost him a lot. Yet he had to admit his behavior was more teenager-like than hunter-like. 

Sam went on. “I discovered about the Slayer the second day of my researches. I met with her Watcher, her mentor of some kind. They have some serious stuff at the high school library. Dead giveaway. I told them about some of our hunts and they let me stay for a few of their meetings. They think I want to help them. We’re standing on a Hellmouth, Dean.”  
“Well that explains some shit.” commented Dean. “So how did it go with that Slayer chick? Is she hot or what? God, Sam, I can see ya blushin. Finally got some?” Dean punched him in the shoulder with the Dean Smirk (TradeMark) on his face.  
“No! I could never… You know that I am not looking for…a girlfriend… I can’t…After what happened…” Sam’s face crumbled. Dean just stared at him, lightness gone, unable to give any words of support. Sam got a grip on himself, as usual.  
“Plus, she is obviously involved with that Angel guy. Ring any bell?” Sam turned toward Spike and waited, challenging.  
“Yeah, Hell’s Bells. Very unpleasant fellow. He had his moments though, but lately… Better stay away. My grandsire, he is. Think your family is fucked up? Think again. I told you about him already, Pet.” Spike went on, turning to Dean. “Let’s skip Christmas family reunion this year, yeah?”  
Sam was getting worked up and his talk’s speed went a level up. “He is a vampire, for God’s sake. Yet the Vampire Slayer is dating him. She trusts him.  
Dean, don’t you ever wonder why Dad never talked to us, like, really, talk? Discuss about the Nature of Evil? I think he was more interested in turning us into efficient killing machines. Maybe it was more about revenge and the thrill of the kill rather than saving people.”  
Dean suddenly uncoiled and delivered a nasty strike to Sam’s temple. He regretted it immediately, but the damage was done. Recovering from the pain, massaging his cheekbone, Sam’s face was devastated, but he had now the upper hand. He had made his point. Now they both knew he was right and that even Dean was questioning their father’s ways.  
“Everything that is not Dad’s teachings convergent, you shut down or punch through. Maybe it’s time to look for different paradigms, Dean.” Sam went on, refusing to back off this time. “You made me eat shit again, Dean. I thought we were past that.” 

The two brothers were still facing each other, fists clenched. Sam was the first to lower his hands with a loud gulp from his throat.  
“I was so mad at you, I could have killed you. But for the first time since all the shit went down, you’re happy, Dean. You’re glowing.” Sam went on.  
“Oh, fuck, man, show some respect…next time ya’ll tell me my hair looks great and my shoes are cute?!” Dean taunted in a failed attempt at humor.  
There was no stopping Sam now. He had his resolved face, his eyes half closed, looking down on Dean from under his long lashes.  
“When was the last time you let a job unfinished? The 17th of last Never. Yet the man is still a walking dead. It has to mean something, Dean. What stopped you? You lied to me, to him, Hell, you’re even lying to yourself. The Slayer is all about choices and people’s and things’ actions rather than Human versus Supernatural Essence. If even Terminator Dean can learn to process shades of Grey, there might still be Hope left for the world.”  
Spike cheered. “Good speech, mate. You would make a great ruler.”  
Sam tried to catch his breath, still stroking his face. “Yeah, I wish Dean would let me lead, sometimes. He thinks that being the older one automatically makes him the one in charge. This is when it starts to go to shit usually.”  
“Are you bitches ganging up on me already?” ranted Dean, but it had stung hard. It’s one thing to blame yourself for being wrong, it’s another to have it shoved down your throat by your baby brother, heck, in front of your lover, on top of it. And because of him, Sam was hurt. Again. And Dean hated himself for that too. He was like his father. A quick beating over a long teaching. ‘When in doubt, just punch’ had been Dean’s way for a long time. 

Sam’s voice trembled. “You know I am back in this life only for you. If you want me to leave you, I will. I will go back to my studies. Dean, you just have to say the words. But I hope that we can find another way.” Sam’s puckered brow was now competing on the Nathalie Portman Crying level as he was fighting back tears. Pursing his lips, Sam took one more step forward and invading Dean’s space, he went on, avoiding Dean’s eyes.  
“With the shit we see every day, we deserve every minute of happiness. I already lost Jessica. I almost lost you. I can’t imagine losing you again. I want to spend every moment with you and enjoy it without shame. No regrets.” Declared Sam. “So if the price is having to share you with a… a vampire, I’ll take it. I would do anything for you, Dean, anything.” Sam’s hands were shaking. The two brothers’ hearts were racing together, and even with Dean keeping his game face on, Sam could tell how shaken he was.  
As much as Spike enjoyed watching the drama, his new favourite show was starting to drag on. It was time to flip to the next channel.  
“Let’s put your words to the test, yeah?” he quietly told Sam. Standing up from the bed behind them, Spike grabbed each Winchester by the back of the head and made them collide in front of him in a smooth quick motion. The floppy contact was enough. With so much testosterone floating in the room, the spark ignited an explosion equaling a blast in a Super Ball Action trailer. Spike was rewarded by a strong wave of delicious arousal aroma right in front of him. They smelt so bloody fucking good together, Spike could see himself eat them up both in one go. Add a touch of Sam spice and Dean’s flavour reached its peak. He smiled a huge wolfish grin. It was finally time to redeem this Winchester Hunters Emporium Two-For-One Coupon.

Sam tried to reach and cup Dean’s cheek. Dean brushed his hand off, startled. His lips had landed against Sam’s cheek, warm and wet, and he was completely at bay.  
“Human lives are very short, Pet. Better make the best of it while ya’re alive and kickin”, crooned Spike behind him.  
Sam made a second attempt, with more confidence, he cupped Dean’s cheek and kissed him, hard, on the lips.  
“Are you drunk? Back off!” Blurted Dean. He pushed Sam away. A flash of pain on his brother’s face made him lift his hand automatically and stroke the soft messy hair, trying to sooth him.  
It was all that Sam needed. He grabbed Dean’s waist in earnest and pulled him towards him.  
“You never went by the book anyway, Dean. Don’t start now when I need you so much.” Pleaded Sam.  
“Look at you, lovely Winchesters. So pretty.” Said Spike.  
‘I’m not pretty”, they answered in synch. Spike chuckled; his smile wicked and his eyes sparkling. They went back to stare at each other. In Sam’s bright eyes Dean saw hope, and love, and desire. Dean desperately turned to Spike.  
“’S Ok, Pet, have your fun. Little family bonding time will do you good. I’m right here.” Spike told Dean softly. His duster and boots were gone. He was removing his torn t-shirt. 

Dean’s mind was now deep in the gutter. The new turn in the situation was slowly making him hard, flashes of what could happen swirling in his foggy mind. Sam saw him hesitate and tried another kiss, pressing on Dean’s lips with more insistence, and Dean didn’t reject him. He parted his lips tentatively and felt his brother tongue poke against his. Dean moaned at the contact. Sam growled and deep tongued him, claiming him in the kiss. Spike stood behind Sam and helped him out of his plaid shirt at vampire speed. When Dean tried to push Sam away with a hand on his chest, his fingers met a hard nipple under the light cotton of Sam’s old t-shirt.  
“This can’t be happening…” He tried to breath. “We have to stop…”  
Spike came behind him and put his arms around his waist.  
“Love isn’t brains, children. It’s blood, blood screaming inside you to work its will. And the same blood runs through your veins, Winchesters.” He slightly licked Dean’s neck.  
“Listen to your blood, Dean, how it sings for Sam’s. Come on now. Only the three of us here, Pet. You won’t need this.” He said, before removing Dean’s shirt. Spike’s t-shirt was gone. Sam was removing his own t-shirt. Dean’s head was spinning. Everything was going way too fast.  
“Don’t worry about anything, Dean, let me take care of you for once.” Said Sam, pushing him slowly and walking him towards the bed. Dean felt his brother’s cock hard against his stomach. His throat was parched, suddenly. He hit the bed and let Sam sit him down with two hands on his shoulders. This was crazy and he wasn’t going to let himself be toyed with like a shy virgin. He was so close he could see Sam’s beauty spot near his lips. The hot thin lips. And the even hotter dimple in the chin. Dean wanted to bite that chin so bad. Sam grabbed his t-shirt and helped him removing it. Dean lifted his arms and grabbed his brother’s neck to bring his face down toward him. He kissed Sam again, this time claiming him in return by pushing his tongue in Sam’s mouth. It tasted amazing, a hint of beer and warm breath, and Sam’s familiar scent. He lied down, Sam following on him, moaning softly in his mouth. Sam’s jeans were gone. Dean could feel the hard shape straining against the boxers’ fabric. Dammit but his brother was huge. His own cock throbbed and almost escaped from the top of his own boxers. What the f… how come he could see his briefs? His jeans were being rolled on his ankles. He heard Spike chuckle again. That damn perv! Dean turned his head to find him and felt like flying. He landed near the bedhead, socks and boxers gone. Spike was butt naked and hard as could be, kneeling behind him, bending over him and kissing him deeply. He struggled for air just in time to see a very naked Sam getting comfortable between his legs, slowly stroking him from knee to upper thigh before grabbing Dean’s cock with his long fingers. God it felt so good! Dean knew his brother’s features by heart, but that angle was new. Sam looked amazing, the long hair falling on his face, his broad shoulders contrasting with his slim hips, and a hot as Hell dimpled lower back. And this butt! When did he find time to go to the gym?

“Now finish what you started earlier, Pet”, commanded Spike, and he gave Dean his cock, challenging his Hunter. Dean palmed his length and shyly swirled his tongue against the tip. His eyes went to Sam, what would his brother think, seeing him a slut for cock like that… Sam’s eyes were on him all right. They were dark as night and his brother was panting. Dean felt wet juice run off on his leg were his brother was humping him. Dean almost came right there. It was impossible. It was so twisted, yet it felt so right. It was happening and he wanted it to happen. He took Spike in his mouth, bobbing his head, resuming his licking, sucking faster and harder. Spike grunted and pinched Dean’s nipples in rhythm.  
“So good, Hunter. Show Lil Bro how good his Big Brother looks with my cock deep in his throat.” Spike went on, and the two Winchesters whined together as one.  
Dean almost chocked when Sam’s tongue pushed against his tip.  
“Oh god, Dean! You taste so good! Hmmm.” Hummed Sam. “I have been wanting to taste you for so long now!” He sighed, and Dean moaned in response. Sam lifted Dean’s leg and dipped to his balls and perineum. Dean was already seeing stars when he felt Sam long fingers circling his hole and slowly tease him. His hips bucked and bucked, fighting of their own accord to meet Sam’s hand in the air.  
Sam grabbed some lube he saw on the bedside table on his left and his strokes became more insistent. He wanted to enjoy this moment but feeling his brother impaling himself on his hand was too much. He could not restrain himself any longer, Dean’s moans and reactions to his touch were driving him crazy. He stroked his painfully hard dick until it was glistening with lube and pushed against Dean’s ass. Dean opened his eyes and fell into his brother’s possessive gaze. “Let me fuck you, Dean, I need to fuck you so bad”, Sam croaked.  
“Shit, Sammy! Stop teasing and fuck me already!” answered Dean in a growl, letting go of Spike for an instant, and he pushed his hips down on Sam’s cock. Sam let out a strangled cry. Dean held his breath and stayed still. Even with Sam trying his best not to hurt him, it burned like hell for a minute, but slowly the pleasure made the burn disappear and Dean wanted more. Sam buried himself to the balls and cried in bliss, he was in paradise.  
“Spread your legs!” he commanded. His cock disappearing in Dean, his brother’s muscular and sleek body wrapped around him, Dean’s cheeks flushed and his pupils blown, his lips swollen around Spike’s mouthwatering dick… with such a view at this rate Sam would not last much longer. Dean was losing his mind too, with cocks fucking his ass and his mouth at the same time, the sensations were pushing him to the edge.  
“Fuck Dean, you’re so tight!” Said Sam in a breath. Spike grunted deep in his chest and guided Dean’s head faster on his dick.  
Spike watched as the younger Hunter slowly took charge and noticed the changes in him. Surely there was more than meet the eyes in Lil’ Bro.  
“Happy, Pet? Feelin’ good? He fucks you real good, doesn’t he?” Spike asked appraisingly. Spike rolled his tongue between his teeth at Sam. When Sam caught Spike’s dark eyes on him, he blushed a little, but he went back to Dean with renewed energy. He was starting to see why Dean could not get enough of the vampire. Spike thought he could easily teach Sam a thing or two about ‘whatever I do is never enough’ father figure issues. Spike could be a good Daddy for his boys if they would let him. And it looked like they would happily.  
Spike eagerly watched as Dean surrendered and let Sam take over. Dean had never been so vulnerable and beautiful. He grabbed Dean’s wrists in one of his hand and pulled Dean’s arms above the Hunter’s head, pinning them down in the pillows. The green eyes were blown. “Look at you, so beautiful when we fuck you, spread for us, that’s it, take me deeper, Luv… Fuck! I’m comin’, so good, I’m comin’ now!” shouted Spike, and he pulsed in long shots in Dean’s mouth. 

Still shuddering from his climax, Spike fell on the bed on Dean’s side. Dean grabbed him and pulled him into a desperate kiss. How Spike had figured out that this was what Dean wanted and needed all along, when Dean himself had not figured it out yet was beyond Dean’s grasp. Yet Spike knew. This was his gift to Dean, to Sam. Green eyes and blue eyes locked, and Dean silently thanked Fate for making them cross path that evening. Maybe, Dean and his Big Bad Vamp were just alike, romantics at heart, under their armor of bravado and airs. Like apple pie. Crunchy crust outside, melty goodness inside. Spike nodded slowly, with a shrug of his shoulders, his fingers interlocked with Dean’s, a kind of You’re welcome, Pet, twinkling in his eyes. He chuckled a bit, voice low, as he commanded to Dean:  
“Now have your cake, Luv”, as if he could hear and follow Dean’s puzzled thoughts. And sure enough, this was Dean’s new favorite flavor combo. With ice cream on top. But with such expert moves Sam was maybe not as vanilla as Dean had thought him to be. And damn if that wasn’t a hot thought. Dean sent Sam a long pleading look, and Sam leant forward to kiss him, slowing his pace and enjoying the feeling of their tongues dancing together. Spike crawled further down and palmed Dean aching cock. His eyes still on the show above him, he slowly enjoyed jerking Dean off and licking leaking pearls. Dean was breathless, he was going to die, it was too good. His hand in Spike’s iron grip, Sam’s burning hot cock inflaming his hole, Spike’s cool lips on his cock, his mind went totally blank. Unable to move, fastened, deeply connected to both his loves, he could not hold it any longer. He thought he would die, crushed by the monumental wave of his orgasm.  
“Sam, fuck, too good, harder… Spike, don’t let go, Ah! fuck!” Dean yelled and came hard in Spike’s mouth. Spike swallowed delightfully. Collecting some come on his chin he spread some on Sam’s lips. Sam grunted and wrapped his tongue around Spike’s finger to get more, and Spike gave him his finger to suck on. Opening his eyes, Dean caught the exchange between them.  
“You’re mine, he’s yours, so he’s mine too.” Purred Spike.  
“That’s twisted vamp logic”, tried to discuss the guy who was deep in the cake metaphor instants ago.  
“I am yours Dee, and you’re mine! Mine!” Sam’s words ended in a growl. Dean’s ass clamped in his hands, Sam lifted him higher up on his thighs and fucked the hell of Dean a few more times before exploding deep in his ass. He shouted “Dean! Oh Dean!” again and again until the ride was over. He fell on Dean’s stomach. Dean wiped his tears with his thump and stroked his hair. He murmured “It’s ok, Sammy. We’re all together now.” before slowly drifting to sleep, an arm bracing Spike’s waist and the other around Sam’s sweaty shoulders.  
“Damn right, Pet.” Spike added with a contented grin. He went to grab a towel and softly wiped his two emotionally and physically worn out humans a bit before taking the middle of the bed. He arranged Sam in his lap on his right and Dean on his left. Spike took a great selfie with his phone, and wished he had Angel’s number. Then he lit a fag, feeling like a King in hell.


End file.
